The Hitchcock Varint (WIP 1/?)
by wendia
Summary: Mulder and Scully stumble onto the case of an escaped serial killer only to find they are involved in something much more dangerous.
1. Default Chapter

WIP: The Hitchcock Variant   
Part 1/?  
Author: Wendia  
Summary: MSR, casefile.  
Spoliers: Everything up to and including the movie.  
  
Authors notes:  
  
I guess technically this is post movie fic, though that wasn't really intentional. None of season 8 or 9 have occured, no pregancies, abductions, Doggett etc. But hopefully a mytharc type of story of the old kind before everything got so complicated.   
  
This started of as a work in progress about two months ago. I posted the first chapter to ephemeral then and I am hugely grateful to anyone who sent me feedback. Anyway having promised myself to add regular updates I promptly failed as the story spiralled out of control and became more and more complicated. I still haven't finished it and I am fairly sure that even the chapters that I am posting now will need revamping at some point but I'm a lot closer to the end than I ever was before.   
  
Feedback: Like a said I still haven't quite finished this fic so any suggestions on the direction it should take would be hugely appreciated. In fact any comments at all would be wonderful. Hell, send me a message telling me what the weathers doing where you are I'd probably be happy.  
  
Archive: Not yet, though if anyone wants to when its finished would be more than happy.   
  
***********************************************************************  
  
The Hitchcock Variant.  
Prologue.  
  
-----------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
2 Novemeber 1514 hours, Richmond  
--------------------------------  
  
  
The man pressed down on the accelerator sending the car speeding along the highway. The afternoon sun was strong but swirls of black danced in front of his eyes obscuring the road.   
  
/They will not win./   
  
He had muttered that to himself when he left the complex. But since then it had become a mantra playing on repeat inside his head.   
  
He had said it to the perplexed guard as he passed through the outer perimeter. He shouted it at a passing cow as the car moved out into the countryside. Now he used it to quieten the voices that pushed at the edge of his conscious.   
  
He would not turn around.   
  
They would not win.  
  
He had made sure of that. He had destroyed it all.  
  
The presence behind and in front of his eyes grew stronger but he blinked away the oily patterns. It would not defeat him, he was stronger than the others, stronger than that woman that Alex cared about. He understood it and therein lay his advantage. All he needed was a little more time.   
  
The man's eyes were searching now. Hunting through the black spots for an appropriate target.   
  
/Too far away./  
  
/Not strong enough./  
  
The car whizzed past crumbling stone walls and empty fields. Sappling trees stood swaying in the breeze. They would not do. The horizon moved closer and the man found what he was looking for.   
  
He pressed harder on the accelerator. It was more of an effort now, the presence was stronger, seeping its way from his eyes to his brain, drifting along his motor neurones and urging his foot to ease up.   
  
He gritted his teeth and kept his shoe to the floor.   
  
/They will not win./  
  
The horizon moved closer and he began to turn the wheel. His hands tremoured and resisted but he only needed to angle the car slightly. The wheels spun on dust and stones as the vehicle edged towards the side of the road. The speedometer hit 90mph and the tires screeched.   
  
He could hardly see at all now, the black swirls were moving faster more frantically making it almost impossible to peer between them. But still he kept his hands locked in position.  
  
When the car hit the tree his last thoughts were of a young woman and a silver locket.   
  
-----------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
The Hitchcock Variant  
Chapter 1.  
  
-----------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
23 November 2003 hours, Washington DC  
--------------------------------------  
  
  
"Where do you find these places?"  
  
The neon sign above the door announced "Barney's" in fluorescent letters. Though the 'ey' was dimming and the 'a' had disappeared altogether,it appeared to be the only lighting in the entire place.  
  
"I've a book. I'm working my way through, only up to B though."   
  
She arched a auburn eyebrow. He grinned and added;  
  
"The Rough Guide to America's seediest bar's."   
  
In truth he wasn't sure what had made him bring her here. Except that he had looked across the office and just wanted to see her some place else. Somewhere other than buried under a pile of paper work or up to   
her elbows in blood and guts.   
  
/Have dinner with me, tonight./ He'd just said it, not really thinking about it, he just wanted to see her somewhere that wasn't work.  
  
"Seriously Mulder, I'm interested in your selection criteria."   
  
She continued her appraisal of his choice of venue.   
  
"I dunno."   
  
His eyes flicked along the near empty bar to the three beers they had on tap. Shrugging he continued,   
  
"A fine choice of ales, an interesting and varied clientele, friendly yet buxom barstaff."   
  
Scully glanced at the greying waitress. Her name tag announced Joy, though Scully very much doubted this was particularly applicable. The corners of her mouth turned, only briefly, but long enough for Mulder   
to notice.   
  
/Because I wanted to see her smile/ He thought.  
  
"Not too far from the home and a large sports screen." He answered her earlier question. "Though really, if you don't mind eating in the dark the foods surprisingly good."   
  
He motioned towards one of the many empty booth's and for a fleeting moment she felt his fingers brush against her back. They slid into the   
seats opposite each other.   
  
"Hey Scully, did you catch the Knicks game last night." He assumed she hadn't.  
  
"Yes actually."   
  
His eyes narrowed suspiciously.  
  
"What have you done with my partner?"   
  
"Really, though I thought they were robbed the refs decision in the 2nd quarter was atrocious."   
  
He regarded her with a mixture of interest and amusement. Scully leant forward and lowered her voice conspiratorially;  
  
"You know I played basketball for my college team." She wondered why she'd never had occasion to tell him that before.   
  
Mulder laughed out loud. She picked up several packets of sugar and threw them at his chest.   
  
"I thought you believed in extreme possibilities."   
  
"Okay, okay, Ms Jordan." A flicker of a smile still played across his lips.   
  
"I never said I was good." she countered amused by his response.   
  
"Why basketball?" he questioned genuinely interested. "Its not.. immediately obvious."  
  
"I had a good aim." She shrugged, "and I could never run fast enough to play anything else."   
  
"How about you?"   
  
With his height and interest in the sport she'd always assumed he'd played in college.  
  
"I played in high school, but its not very popular in England."   
  
Scully, grinned amused by the idea that she was quite possibly better than he.   
  
"You know, I could probably beat you."  
  
"Anytime Agent Scully, anytime."  
  
Her memory sparked and she heard his voice in her head.  
  
/Hips before hands, Scully. Hips before hands./   
  
She could almost feel the pressure of his body against hers, the warmth of his breath in her ear.   
  
She was suddenly grateful for the dark, he couldn't see the red flush that rose in her cheeks.  
  
"I swam for the varsity team for a couple of years." He continued.   
  
"Varsity team?"   
  
"Yeah, Oxford versus Cambridge. The tradition dates back hundreds of years, only its less sport and more drinking nowadays."   
  
She raised an eyebrow and was about to question him further when the waitress roughly deposited a candle on their table.  
  
"You ready to order yet." She drawled. Scully realised they hadn't even looked at the menu.  
  
"Two bottles of Budweiser, a glass of water, two t-bone steaks with fries and a side salad." Mulder answered with authority. The waitress wrote down his choices and walked off without a word. He turned back to   
meet his partner's slightly irritated gaze.  
  
"Trust me here." he grinned back at her. The smile reached his eyes.   
  
She realised it had been a long time since they just had dinner. No alien abductions, no government conspiracies, just them. She was reminded of her last birthday. She thought he had forgotten, he usually did;  
  
/Dog year's Mulder?/   
  
"You do know its not my birthday for three months, don't you?"   
  
He feigned indignity. Then leant in closer;  
  
"I never said I was buying."  
  
-----------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Mulder was right the food was surprisingly good. Skewing a fry she stole a glance at her partner. The candlelight spared little illumination yet his skin seemed to glow darkened gold whilst his hair and eyes shone black. He never ceased to surprise her. Just when she thought she had him figured out he would do something like this. He would choose the most unlikely of bars and make her feel like she was dining at the Ritz. He would listen to her and laugh at her jokes, as if she was the only person in the world. In a few short sentences he could make her forget every time she'd ever been mad with him. He could make her wonder why they held themselves so far apart.  
  
He looked up and abruptly she realised she was staring.   
  
"Is this a date?" She meant to sound flippant but her words came out more seriously than she intended. His expression remained unchanged but his eyes widened almost imperceptibly. She watched a brief flash of uncertainty flicker across his features.   
  
"That depends, Agent Scully." He paused and her heart beat faster. "What are your selection criteria?"   
  
/Tall? Dark? Handsome?/ He matched every one.   
  
"Candlelight?." he lent towards her, almost whispering.  
  
/I love his voice./ She couldn't help but think.   
  
"Dinner?."  
  
/Like honey over gravel./ Her mind offered.   
  
"A friendly yet bux... ouch."   
  
Her shoe connected with his shin and she laughed. Yet she couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed. Humour was always his easy way out. He smiled back at her, really smiled.   
  
The effect was magnetic, without thinking she reached for his hand.   
  
"Mulder I.." She wasn't entirely sure what she was going to say but it didn't matter. His expression changed and she caught his eyes and followed them in the direction of the television, the spell was broken.   
  
'Billy John Sirus escaped from the Richmond state penitentiary at 4 o'clock this afternoon. He was charged on ten counts of...The news report continued.'  
  
"You know him?" She asked quietly softly taking her hand away from his.   
  
"Yes, I helped catch him."   
  
His eyes sought out hers but it was too late, the moment passed. He shrugged.   
  
"I'd just started profiling, I didn't do much really, it was a very public case, there was a large team working it."  
  
"What did he do?"   
  
Before he could answer his cellphone rang.  
  
"Mulder." he turned from her and greeted the caller.  
  
Scully's eyes flicked back to the news report.   
  
'Sirus escaped when a prison van crashed into a truck.   
The accident is not being treated as susipcious.'  
  
"Yes I've heard." Mulder was saying.   
  
'Police say the fugitive is armed and extremely dangerous.   
You should not attempt to confront him.'  
  
"Right, a seat on the 11 o'clock flight." He was   
scribbling down the details.   
  
Scully turned back to her partner, the playful grin faded   
from his features, he looked tried.   
  
"Two" she said on impulse. Surprised Mulder glanced up   
at her. "Two seats" she added softly.   
  
"Two seats" Mulder parroted into the phone.   
  
------------------------------------------------------------  
  
23 November 2330, Flight AA283  
------------------------------  
  
"So tell me about Sirus." Scully questioned as they settled into their seats. Mulder nodded absently.  
  
"William John Sirus was born into your typical dysfunctional family. Father left before he was born, mother drank away the family's income."  
  
"Attachment disorder, emotionally immature. He blamed all his problems in life on women."   
  
He smiled as if to display empathy with this particular theory.   
  
"Probably would have ended as your average petty criminal except that his mother was murdered and not by him. That's unusual, most serial killers start with someone they know, a female relative or friend. He didn't, that's partly what made him so hard to catch."   
  
He paused.   
  
"His mothers death came as a blessing, he gets the trailer, doesn't have to put up with her drinking. But Billy John becomes obsessed by her murder, the guys clever, reads a lot, forensics, police method."   
  
"His first kills were planned, well planned and all his victims resembled his mother in some way. The guy thought he was doing a community service by ridding the world of these women."   
  
"But then like all sociopaths he decompensates quickly. I guess he got a taste for it. The women he kills become younger, more attractive. Killing off fifty year old drunks with more children than teeth is all very well, but these are not the women a man looks at in bars."   
  
"He killed ten people before we caught him." She caught the soft lilt of anger tinged guilt in Mulder's voice.  
  
"How did he do it?" she asked softly  
  
"That's were it gets interesting. He'd kill them in their homes, more of a challenge that way. He got very good at breaking and entering. The first victims were strangled, the rest shot. He mutilated these women, but he never used a knife, not once in ten murders."   
  
"His mother was stabbed." She guessed, he nodded looking pleased with her leap of deduction.   
  
"How did they link all the murders to him?" Scully wondered aloud, Richmond was a big place, usually a serial killer kept his MO the same.   
  
"A playing card." She arched an eyebrow. "All the victims had the ace of hearts planted with them."  
  
"When we searched his trailer we found a number of crime books,   
fiction and non-fiction. Sirus had underlined the important bits.   
In one of the novels the murderer left the jack of spades as his   
calling card."   
  
The plane banked and Mulder watched his partner's grip tighten   
on the arms of her chair.   
  
"Hey," he said quietly "Its only a short flight."   
  
She turned to face him nodding slightly in acknowledgement. She didn't point out it was the going up and coming down she hated, that didn't change no matter what the length of the flight.  
  
-----------------------------------------------------------------  
  
24 Novemeber 0100, Richmond  
---------------------------  
  
Her breathing told him that she was sleeping. He pulled the car up quietly and turned to wake her. She always found it difficult to stay up through the early hours. He wondered if she realised just how many of those hours he had spent watching her sleep.   
  
"Scully." He whispered. "Hey, sleeping beauty."  
  
She blinked wondering if she had heard him or her imagination.  
  
"We're here."  
  
The operation centre turned out to be significantly less formal than its title suggested. A number of rooms in a local police station had been acquisitioned for the purpose, files and personnel sat haphazardly around the desks.   
  
Mulder took in the scene before purposely striding towards a tall black man. The man turned to greet him.  
  
"Agent Mulder I presume." His voice had the tone of easy authority and Scully didn't have to hear his next sentence to know he was in charge.   
  
"I'm Federal Marshall Samuel Peers."  
  
"Fox Mulder." Mulder stated in unnecessary confirmation. "This is my partner Dana Scully."  
  
"We've retrieved the old BSU files and the prison records." Peers began without preamble. "I want a new profile. I want to know everything. What he's thinking, where he's going, what he's planning. Hell the colour of his underwear. Everything. I may not be qualified to join the BSU, Agent Mulder, but even I can see that this guy has had nearly twelve years to fantasize about his previous kills and to plan his next. I intend to catch him before he can carry it out."   
  
Mulder nodded, he remembered meeting Sirus and was inclined to agree with the Marshal's brief psychological summation. Still something bothered him, Sirus had evaded capture for the best part of 18 months, he had worked the case only for the final three weeks. He wondered if Peers realised this.   
  
"Sir I wasn't a big part of the original investigation. I'm not very well acquainted with the case file."  
  
"Your name appears on the reports Agent Mulder. Reacquaint yourself."  
  
Peers nodded curtly and Mulder correctly interrupted the gesture as a sign of dismissal.   
  
"Nice guy." Scully breathed quietly as they turned and searched for somewhere that wasn't covered in people and ringing telephones.   
  
"He's not supposed to be" Mulder breathed back, leaning in close to her ear, "didn't you watch The Fugitive."   
  
"Yeah." She answered quietly "But I doubt the man we're chasing is Harrison Ford."   
  
They found a tiny side office and deposited the files on the desk.   
  
"Some light reading." he quipped and handed her a thick folder which she recognised as the original case file.  
  
Forty minutes and one cup of coffee later Scully could safely say for certain that Sirus had not evaded capture for so long due to a lax investigation. Mulder was right he had little input to the original case, however what he had failed to mention was that contribution which he made led directly to the arrest.   
  
His profile had been tucked at the back of the folder, mostly it mirrored those of his colleagues but in one vital aspect it didn't. It was Mulder who had suggested that the UNSUB had a relative who had been a victim of a serious crime, most likely murder. He had postulated that the UNSUB would have shown excessive interest in the investigation, which would have been a success though not necessarily due to the UNSUB's input. He even suggested a range of dates between which this original murder would have been committed. He had been right on all accounts.   
  
She sighed a rubbed the bridge of her nose absently. Stealing a glance at her partner she saw he was intent on the documents he held. Several pages of spider scrawl sat crumpled under his right hand, pen poised ready to add any further thoughts. She realised she often forgot about his roots in profiling. He rarely talked about it and she had assumed that he did not look back fondly on his years with the BSU. Still the fact remained he had been good, very good. Her eyes flicked back to her own file. She stifled a sigh. Mulder may be a brilliant profiler she thought ruefully but, she however was not. In fact she wasn't even sure of her own motives in accompanying him here. For a reason she couldn't quite explain she just didn't want him to go alone.  
  
"You know you don't need to be doing this." He looked up from the file and meet her eyes. For an instant she wondered if he had been reading her mind.   
  
"I don't mind."  
  
"Go" he said softly. "Find us a motel. Get some sleep."   
  
Scully thought about arguing, but a brief glance at her watch changed her mind. She rested her hand atop of his and squeezed it gently.   
  
"I'll give you a call to let you know where we staying."   
  
She stood to leave but he caught her fingers back in his.  
  
"Thanks." He looked up at her. "For being here."  
  
-----------------------------------------------------------------  
  
24 November 0730, Rainbow Inn, Richmond  
---------------------------------------  
  
The Rainbow Inn had nothing to distinguish it from any of the other cheap motels Scully had stayed in whilst she and Mulder were on the road. However it did have clean sheets, hot water and two free rooms.   
  
Despite the fact that she hadn't got to bed until past 3am her alarm woke her at 7. Forcing herself to leave the warmth of the blankets she rose and showered.   
  
When Mulder knocked on the door at 7:30 she was fully dressed and sat busy brushing the waves out of her hair.   
  
"Come in."  
  
"Morning."   
  
He offered her a polystyrene cup, she took it with a quick smile of thanks. He had shaved since the previous evening but the circles under his eyes remained. She didn't ask when, if indeed he had slept.   
  
"I finished a preliminary profile last night." He handed her a photocopy of several handwritten sheets.   
  
"Your opinion?" He perched opposite her on the end of the bed.  
  
"The guy's a nut."   
  
She just continued to stare at him.   
  
"Going by the original profiles and interviews I'd say he'll adopt a similar pattern. Most probably he'll break into someone's house. In fact that's where I'd start to look, recent B and E's. He's got no money and nowhere to stay but a significant amount of practice in entering peoples homes."   
  
"However.." Scully prompted judging from the tone of his   
voice there was a but.. somewhere.  
  
"However..." His lips twitched slightly at her ability   
to read his so well. "After about 4 years of incarceration he   
found Gawd." He put on a Southern accent. "Billy John is now   
a devout born again Christian."  
  
This caught her attention.   
  
"So, what are you saying? He'll not kill?"  
  
"No I'm saying that this makes him more dangerous."  
  
"Being religious?"   
  
She arched an eyebrow.   
  
"Yes" He smiled.  
  
"The impulse to kill is still there. He may think that he can control it but he can't. He'll try, we probably have two, three days, then the desire to murder will become too strong. This makes him unpredictable, he may not stick to his original pattern."  
  
"So what do you suggest?" Scully asked quietly, slightly shaken   
by the time limit Mulder had just imposed on their investigation.   
  
"Widen the search to include places of religious significance. But he's not stupid, he's not going to walk into the local confession booth. We should start with graveyards, he may visit the graves of his previous victims. I'd also check out any local religious shelters. But I wouldn't rule out the B and E's."   
  
He sighed and she could see the effort he had put into the pages she held.   
  
"What about the Marshals team, any progress?"  
  
"He still has the gun he took from a prison guard. He used it   
to mug a guy. He stole his clothes and about 50 bucks. Since   
then no-one has seen or heard a thing."   
  
Scully nodded.  
  
"What now?"  
  
"Well, with Tommy Lee Jones's permission, I want to visit   
the prison. He had a friend there, they.." he paused searching   
for the right words, " shared a common interest."  
  
-----------------------------------------------------------------  
  
0900 Richmond State Penitentiary  
--------------------------------  
  
No matter how many times she had done it Scully would never get used to walking through the halls of a male prison. Outwardly she set her professional mask firmly in place and kept her stride steady, inwardly her heart beat too fast and she longed to run for sanctuary.   
  
"Hey baby."   
  
"Come hand cuff me."  
  
Ignoring them she stole a glance at her partner. She'd never let him know but she felt stronger for his being their.  
  
The warden lead them through two sets of locked doors to an interview room obviously set up for their purpose.   
  
/Bob Cleaver./   
  
She heard Mulders voice in her head.   
  
/Age 47, murdered 14, strangled them, had a thing about electric cables, liked telephone wires too. He and Sirus swapped notes./  
  
Cleaver looked like an aging insurance sales man. His balding head was covered with a few wisps of mousy brown hair and his body had long since given into a substantial middle age spread. He wore the traditional prison orange. But it was his eyes that stood out, cold,   
hard, evil and starring right at her.   
  
"What can I do for you fine people?" He drawled. She felt her stomach turn.   
  
"Sirus." Mulder sat purposefully opposite the prisoner. Scully moved to the back of the room and lent against the window.   
  
"Last I heard he got himself a new life." Cleaver answered, sounding almost bored.   
  
"Tell me about him." Mulder's voice was hard and his face expressionless.   
  
"A good man Billy John, found the lawd, he did." He smiled but it didn't reach his eyes. Mulder watched him carefully.   
  
"Did you ever talk about what you'd do when you got out?"   
  
"Yeah, you know, think we'd set us up a convent." Cleaver replied and Mulder realised the man had had time to consider this conversation, to decide how best to be unhelpful.  
  
Textbook technique stated the subject should not lead the interview, any flippant remarks should be ignored and under no circumstances should the agent indulge in their fantasies.  
  
"So you like nun's Cleaver?" Mulder quickly disregarded the guidlines.   
  
The inmates pupils dilated and his gaze flicked to the floor and   
back. Mulder noticed, he had learnt early on with the BSU the value of body language.   
  
"Thou shalt not kill, Agent Mulder, you'll should know that." The innmate replied but the confidence in tone wavered.   
  
"How about Sirus, does he likes nun's?"  
  
"Angels of mercy Sir, doing the lawds work." This time Cleaver answered firmly, his eyes challenging Mulder to pursue the topic further. Mulder meet the inmates gaze and for a minute they were locked in a slient stand off. It was Cleaver who looked away first.   
  
He leaned round to stared at Scully. She felt his eyes rake over her body and suppressed the urge to shudder. Mulder moved forcibly into his line of vision and abruptly changed the subject.   
  
"Did he have any friends out there?"   
  
Cleaver pretended to study Scully for a second longer then he leant his head to one side and replied casually.  
  
"Now why would I tell you'll that."   
  
"Oh, an honest god faring man like yourself, Bawb." Mulder exaggerated a Southern accent. "Would have thought you'd jump to the opportunity to help." Scully heard the soft lilt of amusement in her partner's voice and immediately knew what he thought of Cleaver's religous convictions.   
  
Cleaver shrugged amd Mulder raised his eyebrows.   
  
/Not sufficient incentive./ He thought though he had never imagined it would be.   
  
"You help us, we help you." He said instead, he sounded almost fed up.  
  
"Whatch you'll do for me. I ain't never getting out of here."  
  
Mulder leaned closer and whispered one word.   
  
"Privileges."   
  
Both he and Scully knew how inmates valued that word. Cleaver apparently understood its importance too, he shifted in his chair.   
  
"Sirus ain't got no family, no friends."   
  
Mulder shook his head.  
  
"That's too easy, gotta earn your keep Bob. He ever get any letters, write to anyone?" Now his tone was casual almost sing-song.   
  
"He wrote to the lawd." Cleaver replied.  
  
"Is he going to kill."   
  
The question was so abrupt that not even Scully was expecting it. Cleaver too looked thrown, he took a minute before he answered. He struggled, then repeated his earlier words.   
  
"Thou shalt not kill, Agent Mulder, weren't you'll listening to me."   
  
Mulder raised an eyebrow then changed tack again.   
  
"He ever tell you about his fantasy's"  
  
He leaned in and spoke in a conspiratorial whisper. Cleaver's eyes strayed again and this time Mulder didn't stop him. Scully steeled herself and meet the inmates gaze.   
  
"Bet you had some good stories to swap."  
  
"Wouldn't be fit for a ladies ears."   
  
He smiled but Scully didn't let her expression change.  
  
"Is he going to kill?"   
  
Mulder repeated the question but Cleaver had his answer now. The inmate leant back and raised his voice theartically.  
  
"The lawd shall have his vengeance on the unpure."  
  
Scully was always captivated when she watched Mulder interview. The questions never quite went where she expected them to. He would chop and change. Ask one thing one minute and another the next. Carefully using his choice of words and tone of voice to extract information that often the interviewee never knew they gave. He seemed to be able to gauge a person and know exactly what to say and how. Sometimes it was down right spooky.   
  
But with Cleaver she realised it was not going to be enough.  
  
/He's playing with us./ She thought.   
  
"Well, thank you for your time. Mr Cleaver."   
  
Apparently Mulder thought the same thing. He stood to leave, Scully   
followed him to the door but something about Cleaver was troubling. She realised her partner thought that his religion was just a farce, a conveintnet way to avoid the questions whilst proclaiming his own redemption, but their was an edge of awe in the man's voice that bothered her.   
  
Turning she looked Cleaver in the eyes. Her mind quickly searched through the scriptures looking for a appropraite quote.   
  
"Not everyone saying unto me, 'Lord, Lord,' shall enter into   
the kingdom of paradise, but the one doing the will of my   
Father in the heavens will."   
  
It wasn't ideal but her words seemed to elicit a reaction. Cleaver stared back at her and breathed deeply. His eyes fell to her blouse and for a second she was conscious that he was staring at her chest but then she realised his gaze was on the gold cross.   
  
"He had a visitor." He said slowly.   
  
"A visitor?"   
  
Scully walked back around to the table. She sat down slowly and this time Mulder stood behind her.   
  
"Yeah, first one in twelve long years."   
  
"Tell me about him." She said evenly.  
  
"Didn't meet him myself." He answered sarcastically. Not prepared to give him any leighway Scully stood to leave. Seeing her Cleaver quickly spoke again.   
  
"Weirdest thing, he only had one arm."  
  
Scully's eyes flicked to Mulder's. She found him looking back at her.   
  
"What did they talk about?"   
  
"Billy John wouldn't say, got him all shook up though."   
  
Scully nodded.  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"Anytime baby girl, anytime." He flashed a sickly grin, but now she could see it was just for show.  
  
Mulder banged on the door, the warden opened it promptly and Scully didn't hesitate to follow him out. She felt his hand on her shoulder as she pulled the door closed. He leaned towards her, speaking quietly so only she would hear.   
  
"Why did we not know about this. Its not in the prison records."  
  
"It could just be a coincidence." Scully said softly.   
  
"It could be." He agreed slowly.   
  
/But you don't think it is./  
  
"Mulder.." She was interrupted by the ring of his cell   
phone.  
  
"Mulder." He answered curtly.  
  
Scully glanced back to the interview room. Cleaver had his head bent and his hands clasped in prayer. She watched his eyes. There was something about a murder's stare, something cold, dead, not human.  
  
"There's been a murder." Mulder's voice interrupted her thoughts. She turned back to face her partner.  
  
"Sirus?" She said incredulous.  
  
"It looks like it."   
  
He handed her the car keys.  
  
"Peers would like you to do the autopsy."   
  
Scully doubted the Federal Marshal had phrased the question quite that politely but refrained from saying so. She accepted the keys and nodded.   
  
"Where are you going?"  
  
"Hopewell." He answered absently, turning to leave.   
  
-----------------------------------------------------------------  
  
  
Novemeber 24 1300 hours County Morgue  
-------------------------------------  
  
Scully snapped the latex from her hands. Sarah Jenkins had been   
shot, that much had been easy to ascertain. She'd died quickly,   
which was a mercy as the discolouration and scratch marks on her   
skin told testament to the frenzied attack her body had then   
endured.  
  
She was surprised when Mulder walked into the autopsy bay.   
  
"He shot her in the back of the head." She said by   
way of greeting. Mulder nooded, this much apparently he had   
known. He looked at the body his brows furrowing.  
  
"She wasn't..um..he didn't damage her much." Scully caught   
his meaning, she had seen the photographs of the previous crime   
scenes.   
  
"He did attack her. But the shot to the head was immediately   
fatal, her heart stopped. Without a cardiac output bruises   
don't appear, not in the usual sense. But look here, and here."   
He followed her fingers. "There extensive blows to the body, all inflicted post mortem. She had six broken ribs, both arms broken."   
  
"They found this," he said holding out a plastic bag containing   
a single playing card. "He broke in through the back window,   
she'd left it ajar."  
  
"What did you make the time of death?" his eyes flicked   
back to the body.   
  
"Between two and four this morning." she answered.   
  
"Mulder, where's Hopewell?" he looked slightly surprised. Scully   
smiled, she didn't think he realised, but he made a habit of   
giving her non-informative answers and then walking off. Like   
this morning.   
  
"Its a small town about fifteen minutes east of Richmond."  
  
"You think Sirus is still there?" He shrugged.  
  
"I don't know."   
  
"Tell me about Sarah Jenkins." she asked quietly.   
  
"Not much to tell really, 27, not married, no partner, lived   
alone, family live in Richmond. She worked for a company called   
Cipher Pharmaceuticals as some sort of technician. Her neighbours   
describe her as pleasant but not particularly outgoing." He   
shrugged again. "She had a cat."  
  
"How did they find her?"   
  
"She didn't turn up for work this morning." He looked back at   
the body, starring at it, as if it would tell him something.  
  
"Mulder what is it?" Scully said impatiently, there was obviously   
something bothering him. He shifted his gaze back to her.  
  
"Something doesn't fit."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I don't know." He paused. "Why go to Hopewell?"  
  
"Does he know someone there." She wondered aloud.  
  
"I've got them looking into that."  
  
"Them?"  
  
"Oh, the case is now joint juristiction, federal marshalls   
and FBI, we've been assigned four more agents, two of whom   
are following that lead." She nodded mildly, given Mulder's   
apparent lack of people skills it always surprised her how   
sometimes he could just take charge without realising it.  
  
"What are the others doing?"  
  
"Ones briefing the local PD and the other is looking   
through about ninety reports of breaking and entry." Mulder   
grinned. Sometimes it was nice not to have to do all your   
own dirty work.   
  
"What about how he got there he must have left Richmond   
somehow?"  
  
"Peers seems to have that angle convered." Mulder replied,   
last time he had seen the marshal he had been barking orders   
to interview every bus driver in the district.   
  
"What do you want to do."   
  
"Frank Dursch," it took Scully a second to work out he was   
talking about the man you murdered Lauren Sirus. "He was   
released from jail last year, I think Sirus might visit him."  
  
"Why?"   
  
"Sirus has Dursch to thank for riding him of his alcoholic   
mother. Sirus still sees himself as some sort of angel of   
mercy, I think he sees Dursch the same way. I'm guessing he   
thinks Dursch will help him." He paused looking round.   
  
"Are you finished here?" She nodded.  
  
"Give me five minutes to change."  
  
------------------------------------------------------------- 


	2. Chapter 2

----------------------------------------------------------  
  
24 November 1412. Dursch Residence, Richmond.   
--------------------------------------------  
  
The house they faced looked as if it was in the final stages   
of falling apart. Cracks ran almost the whole length of the   
outside wall and there was no paint left to cover any of the   
rotting wood. Scully checked the number on the file with the   
one of the door, it matched.   
  
"This is the place." She confirmed as they stepped from   
the car and picked there way through the small cluttered   
front garden.   
  
"Do you think he subscribes to DIY times." Mulder   
muttered, searching for a doorbell, giving up and knocking   
instead.   
  
There was no answer.   
  
"Mr Dursch." He knocked again.   
  
Scully peered in the front window. Through tatty lace   
curtains she could make out piles of clothes and what looked   
to be a hospital style bed.  
  
"Mr Dursch." Mulder raised his voice.   
  
A rattling noise sounded from the hallway and she rejoined   
her partner as Frank Dursch answered the door.   
  
Scully knew from the file that he was only sixty-four but   
the man before looked at least eighty. He pulled an oxygen   
cylinder with him and walked awkwardly with a frame.   
  
"Mr Dursch, Agents Mulder and Scully, we'd like to ask you   
some questions."   
  
The man eyed Mulder with suspicion.   
  
"I've done my time, I ain't got to talk to you." He   
coughed and pulled the oxygen mask over his mouth. Scully   
noted the nicotine stained fingers and the hypercapnic   
palmer reddening.  
  
"Billy John Sirus." Mulder continued, stating the name   
then pausing for effect. "You knew his mother"   
  
He casually leant his hand against the door prevent Dursch   
from shutting it.   
  
"Were you aware that he escaped from prison."   
  
"That what you're here to tell me." Dursch tried to sneer   
but he was left gasping the with effort.   
  
"Are you worried?" Mulder asked casually, his tone   
implying that he should be. "Sirus is a dangerous man."   
  
Dursch coughed again and Scully eyed the blue tinge around   
his lips.   
  
"I have nothing to say."   
  
"Have you seen him?" Mulder ignored the man's obvious   
reluctance to talk.  
  
"Has he been here?"   
  
Dursch pulled the oxygen cylinder back and stumbled away   
from the door.  
  
"I'll need to see a search warrant." He struggled for   
breath between each word.  
  
/If there was one thing people learnt in prison,/ Mulder   
mused. /it was their legal rights./   
  
Scully glanced at her partner, acutely aware that a warrant   
was one thing they didn't have.   
  
"Mr Dursch if you think of anything you'd like to   
share..."   
  
With obvious effort the man slammed the door in their face.   
  
"Nice guy." Scully muttered, she turned to Mulder. "We   
don't have enough evidence to get a warrant."   
  
He appeared distracted.   
  
"He knows something." He leant towards her and spoke   
quietly as they made their way back to the street.   
  
"He wasn't worried, he raped Lauren Sirus then stabbed her   
seventeen times. The woman's son is free, a known killer and   
he doesn't even bat an eyelid."   
  
Scully had watched Dursch carefully, however she'd drawn a   
different conclusion.   
  
"Mulder, he obviously has severe airways disease. He's   
dying and I'm guessing he knows that." She turned to face   
him, his yes were distant. "Besides you yourself said Sirus   
is unlikely to be a danger."   
  
He didn't respond.   
  
"Mulder." she said, annoyed.   
  
He took a couple of steps away from her.   
  
"Are you listening to me?"  
  
"There." He pointed towards the skyline.   
  
"Mulder." Her eyes remained fixed on his.   
  
"The church."   
  
Sighing in exasperation Scully adjusted her glance to follow   
his hand. A steeple was just visible beyond the trees.  
  
"Its worth a look." His imploring gaze silenced her   
protest before she voiced it.   
  
Mulder saw the acquiescence in her eyes and didn't wait for   
a verbal agreement. He turned and headed towards the   
steeple, Scully followed him.   
  
"Its not my case." She muttered to herself. It was his   
consult and although the murder had dragged her into it,   
ultimately she felt less than the usual amount of   
responsibility. As such she was prepared to give him some   
leeway.   
  
They made their way through several overgrown alleyways to   
emerge on a street much the same as before. The windows of   
the church were boarded up and the building itself stood   
behind sturdy iron gates.   
  
Mulder shook the chain that bound them, the padlock rattled   
against the gate but it didn't give. He turned to his   
partner.  
  
"Ladies first." He reached out to help her up. Scully   
rolled her eyes and jammed her foot between the metal bars.   
Silently thankful she had chosen pants over a skirt, she   
ignored his offer and pulled herself up and over the gate.   
  
His lips twitched in amusement.   
  
"Hey Scully, is this still breaking and entry if no one   
lives here."  
  
He followed her over the rusted metal.   
  
The church yard was badly overgrown, crumbling grave stones   
hid beneath a blanket of weeds and branches barred their   
path. Swiping back the offending trees Scully forced her way   
towards the building. Mulder caught up with her as she   
reached the door.  
  
"Someone's been here." he leant close, speaking into her   
ear. She saw the fresh scratches in the otherwise rotten   
wood and nodded in agreement. Mulder reached for his gun and   
she followed suit. Their eyes meet in silent agreement.  
  
Slowly he pushed the door open. The boarded windows only let   
in small shivers of light leaving almost everything in   
shadow. Together they stepped inside the building.   
  
Scully paused allowing her eyes to adjust to the darkness.   
Something clattered in the roof beams making her jump.   
Mulder felt her startle beside him.  
  
"Pigeon." She whispered.  
  
"Bat." He suggested, pulling his flashlight from his   
pocket and shining it over the darkened pews. A thick sheath   
of dust coated their surface.   
  
"If someone was here, it wasn't to pray." He glanced at   
his partner. She didn't appear to be listening.   
  
He followed her gaze and heard a noise from a small arch way   
to the left of the alter. Scully placed her hand gently on   
his arm and nodded her head towards the sound.   
  
"Rat." he murmured into her ear. The noise got louder.   
  
"Big rat." she replied under her breath as they crossed   
the stone floor.  
  
He stopped at the entrance and let his eyes tell her he   
would move first. She nodded.   
  
"Freeze, FBI." In one fluid motion he swung round and   
pointed his gun through the arch. Scully followed.   
  
"Shit." A young voice replied.   
  
Mulder let his gun arm drop with a sigh of exasperation. The   
smell of hash was unmistakable.   
  
He turned back to her and spoke in an exaggerated stage   
whisper;  
  
"I'm tempted to shoot anyway."   
  
She remained expressionless but the three teenagers visibly   
blanched.   
  
"Shouldn't you be in school." Mulder didn't hide the   
irritation in his voice.   
  
"Hey, we ain't doing nothing wrong." A boy of about   
seventeen replied. His companions, a girl and another boy of   
a similar age starred up with glazed eyes.  
  
"Yeah right, and when they revised the laws on cannabis   
possession, they forgot to tell me." Mulder replied   
sarcastically.   
  
He turned back to Scully. "I'm going to keep looking   
around." He moved past her made his way back through arch.  
  
/Great./ she thought, /leave me to deal with this./  
  
"You going to arrest us." With Mulder gone the boy   
appeared to have regained some courage.  
  
"I might." She replied in the best parental tone she could   
muster. "Depends whether you help me out".   
  
The boy eyed her with suspicion.   
  
"We're looking for someone. He might of been here in the   
last two days."   
  
A spark of recognition flickered across the young man's   
features.   
  
"There were two men."   
  
She hadn't expected that.   
  
"They were looking around yesterday, here and a couple of   
streets up. We saw them again today, about five minutes   
before you got here."  
  
"What did they look like?"   
  
The boys lips twitched in amusement.  
  
"Like him." He gestured towards arch through which Mulder   
left.  
  
"No-one else?" she asked slowly.  
  
"No." The boy shook his head. Scully focused her gaze on   
his companions who had remained quiet throughout the   
exchange. She flexed her fingers, noticeably shifting her   
gun. Immediately they shook they're heads in confirmation of   
their friends words.   
  
"Okay." She believed them.   
  
Scully turned to leave.   
  
"Next time." She paused for effect. "Don't get caught."  
  
She found Mulder starring at a set of rickety looking steps.   
He climbed onto the bottom rung testing their strength. She   
peered up the makeshift stairway, it ended in a balcony   
which lead on into the clock tower.   
  
"They saw someone."   
  
He stepped onto the next rung, it groaned loudly.  
  
"Sirus?"   
  
"No, two men in suits, they were here yesterday and again   
today, not long ago." Mulder inched higher. Scully eyed the   
rotting wood with consternation.   
  
"That doesn't look safe."   
  
"I've looked everywhere else." He continued upwards.  
  
"I think they visited Dursch, the kid said he saw them in   
that area."   
  
The stairway made another set of protesting creaks and   
groans. Mulder ignored them and climbed higher.   
  
"Mulder, come down."   
  
"Its okay." He shook the decaying handle making her   
flinch. Under his breath he added; "Besides a hundred   
thousand lemmings can't be wrong."   
  
Scully was about to reply when the sound of screeching tires   
drew her attention. Mulder meet her eyes and hastily slide   
to ground level. Together they ran for the door.   
  
He reached the rusted iron gate before her and just in time   
to see a grey sedan leaving at speed.   
  
"Did you get the licence plate." She asked as she caught   
up with him.   
  
"No, dammit."   
  
Mulder turned back to face her and was suddenly distracted   
by her appearance, dust covered both her legs and her right   
sleeve. He realised she must have walked through a spider   
web as wisps of silk thread clung to her hair. He reached to   
pull them out.   
  
"They saw Dursch?" he repeated her early words, absently   
stroking the smooth auburn stands under his fingers.  
  
"I'm just guessing." she said quietly. He let his hand   
fall to his side.   
  
"Then we should probably pay him another visit."  
  
-------------------------------------------------------------  
"Mr Dursch." For the third time, Mulder's fist rattled the   
wooden door. "Sir, its in your interest to talk to us."   
  
"Do you think he went out?" Mulder glanced back at his   
partner.   
  
Scully recalled the oxygen attached to the man's face and   
the frame he had used to walk.   
  
"It would seem unlikely." she answered. Stepping forward   
she called the mans name. Only silence answered them.   
  
Mulder unclipped his weapon and pushed against the ancient   
door handle. It creaked but didn't give.   
  
"Stand back." he said quietly. Scully complied taking her   
own gun into her hand. He gave the door a forcefully kick,   
it immediately succumbed to the blow.  
  
"Mr Dursch." Mulder called again, stepping cautiously into   
the hallway.   
  
The floorboards were visible through the thread bare carpet   
and damp adorned the walls. Mulder made his way to the   
sitting room.  
  
Frank Dursch lay crumpled on the floor. Mulder reached for   
his phone as his partner dropped to her knees by the body.  
  
"Mr Dursch." She turned him to lay supine. There was no   
response. She listened for his breathing and was surprised   
to hear the rhythmic sound of inspiration and expiration.   
Taking his wrist her fingers found his pulse.   
  
"He's tachycardic, in AF, but pulse volume is good." she   
muttered. Her hands moved to his neck and felt the carotids.   
She searched the back of his head for obvious trauma, there   
was none.   
  
"JVP elevated, consistent with COPD and cor pulmonale."   
She continued her observations. It wasn't until she raised   
his eyelids to shine her flashlight into his eyes that she   
made the diagnosis.  
  
"What happened." Finished on the phone Mulder knelt by her   
side.  
  
"He's had a stroke." One pupil was massively dilated   
whilst the other was the size of a pinprick.  
  
"Great timing, think he did it to piss us off?"   
  
Mulder watched his partner's hands move efficiently over the   
man's body quickly assessing what neurological function he   
had left. Judging from the look on her face, the answer was   
not much.   
  
The sound of sirens alerted them to the paramedics arrival.   
Scully meet them at the door quickly recounting her   
conclusions.   
  
"I'm a doctor." She added by way of explanation.   
  
"Are you family?" One of the EMT's asked as they lifted   
Dursch onto a trolley.  
  
"No." She briefly flashed her badge. "Which hospital are   
you taking him to?" She followed them to the door.  
  
"County Cook General. Do you want to come with us?" She   
shook her head, Frank Dusrch was unlikely to wake up today,   
in fact he was unlikely to wake up at all. The paramedic   
nodded curtly and pulled the ambulance doors shut.   
  
Scully sighed and turned expecting to find her partner   
standing behind her. He was nowhere to be seen.  
  
"Mulder."   
  
"Up here." She followed the sound of his voice to a small   
upstairs bedroom. Dust adorned the shabby furniture and the   
floor creaked ominously as she made her way to Mulder's   
side. He was kneeling over a pile of newspapers. The   
headline caught her eyes.  
  
SERIAL KILLER STRIKES AGAIN.  
  
"Sirus." Mulder stated. The date on the paper read October   
8th 1990. Scully fumbled in her pocket and found a pair of   
latex gloves, she handed him one.   
  
"If Dursch hadn't seen him, why was he reading newspaper   
reports on the killings?" Mulder asked.  
  
"He wasn't." Scully answered flatly. He looked up and   
questioned her with his eyes.   
  
"Frank Dursch had severe chronic obstructive pulmonary   
disease. You saw the oxygen and the cot downstairs. Even   
with a frame he was struggling to walk to the door. I doubt   
he's been up here for months."   
  
The dust stood testament to her statement.  
  
"But these papers have been moved recently. I want them   
tested for finger prints." He turned and meet her gaze. "Do   
you think he'll wake up?"  
  
"He might, but if he does I doubt he'll be able to talk to   
us."   
  
His phone rang, the sharp trill sounded eerily loud in the   
bare room.   
  
"Mulder." He answered. Scully watched his brow furrow as   
he listened to the callers words.   
  
"Yes, right away." He snapped the handset shut and turned   
to face his partner.   
  
"They've found another body." he said quietly.   
  
"So soon? he nodded.   
  
"The coroner estimated her time of death to be between   
seven and nine last night." He took the other glove from her   
grasp and gathered up the newspapers.   
  
"I'll take you to the morgue before I drop these into   
forensics."   
  
"But that's so fast" She mumbled but he caught her words.   
Two deaths so close together, serial killers rarely killed   
twice in one night. He shrugged.  
  
"Maybe he's convinced he'll be caught. He's already   
sentenced to life. He's got nothing to lose, if the urge to   
kill is strong enough.."   
  
He trailed off.   
  
"But your profile?" she remembered his words;  
  
/Billy John Sirus is a born again Christian, the impulse   
to kill is still there, he'll try and control it./  
  
/We have two, maybe three days./  
  
Suddenly acutely aware of their location she stopped and   
touched his arm.   
  
"Mulder, where was the body found?"   
  
He meet her eyes.  
  
"Hopewell."  
  
-------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Lewis Residence, Hopewell. 24 November 1634  
--------------------------------------------  
  
Murder scenes were easy to find, the blue lights always gave   
away the their location long before the map did. He parked   
the car awkwardly between a police van and an unmarked   
vehicle.   
  
/34 Crescent Street. Hopewell/ He had not expected to find   
himself back here so soon.   
  
A young uniformed officer approached him as he made his way   
to the door.   
  
"FBI" Mulder stated absently, flashing his badge. The   
young man nodded and let him pass.   
  
Claire Lewis had lived in a middle-class home. She had   
designed her living space from the pages of an Ikea   
catalogue. She had cooked in a kitchen complete with an   
island and terrace doors. Last night she had come home and   
made her way to her designer bedroom, she was shot as she   
threw her bag on the bed.   
  
Mulder picked his way through the crowd of people and made   
his way up the stairs. White tape and blood stains told   
testament to the events of the previous evening. His eyes   
surveyed the area. Red splotches created a gruesome dot-to-  
dot pattern along the walls and bedspread. Mulder mentally   
joined the points together.   
  
"She was shot in the back. Twice." A man dressed in   
overalls was watching Mulder's appraisal of room.  
  
"The killer was waiting for her." Mulder replied, glancing   
back down the hallway. "He was already in the house."   
  
The technician nodded.   
  
"From the spray pattern and the trajectory of the first   
bullet, we found it in the wall, I would estimate.." He   
walked out the room and stopped about three metres from the   
bedroom door. "He stood here."  
  
Mulder nodded, he had made a similar assumption himself. He   
joined the technician, noting that they stood about half a   
metre from the bathroom door.  
  
"You think he was in here?" Mulder pushed the door with a   
gloved hand.   
  
"Seems likely."  
  
Mulder nodded again, then made his way back along the   
hallway. Something akin to a movie scene played in his mind.   
  
She came in, made her way up to the bedroom.  
  
/Was he expecting her to do that?/  
  
He paused at the bedroom door. A grey half length jacket   
hung over a hook next to the frame.   
  
/Was she wearing a coat?/ He pulled on another glove and   
sifted through the pockets. There was a couple of coins but   
it was two receipts which caught his attention.   
  
Claire Lewis had taken a $100 from a cash machine at 18:23   
the previous evening, twenty minutes later she purchased $20   
of petrol.  
  
He dropped the crumpled paper into an evidence bag and   
continued his reconstruction of the woman's movements.  
  
She reached the bedroom and hung her coat up.   
  
He mimicked the action. Something struck him; She would have   
turned round, the hook faced the bathroom, she would have   
looked back along the hallway. Yet it wasn't until she   
turned back to the bed to empty her bag that she was shot.  
  
/He meant to shoot her in the back./  
/He waited./  
  
"Agent." The technician returned. "You might want to take   
a look at these." He handed Mulder the crime scene photo'.   
"We just got given copies." Mulder nodded his thanks and   
began to flick through the glossy pictures.   
  
"Can I keep them." he asked as the man turned to leave.   
  
"Sure."  
  
He put them aside and returned his attention to the black   
Gucci bag that lay upturned on the bed. The contents had   
been displaced. Mulder glanced back at the photo's.   
Apparently nobody had moved it yet.  
  
He made a quick mental inventory of the items; lipstick,   
tissues, wallet, chequebook, comb. He picked up the wallet   
and thumbed through the contents. Claire Lewis had carried   
nearly eighty dollars a few credit cards and a wrinkled   
photo of her husband.  
  
/He didn't take anything./  
  
Snatching up the photo's Mulder made his way back downstairs.   
  
He found the kitchen full of people.   
  
"Has the fridge been dusted?" he demanded of the nearest   
technician.  
  
"No sir." The man looked surprised.   
  
"I want it done, and the cupboards too."   
  
He turned and pulled the refrigerator open. It was full,   
Claire Lewis had been as meticulous with the inside of her   
fridge as she had been with the rest of her house. Food sat   
neatly portioned out into plastic bags, none of the seals   
had been broken.   
  
"Feeling peckish, Agent Mulder?"   
  
Peers deep voice was instantly recognisable. He ignored the   
question and made his way over to the bin. It was empty.  
  
"Sirus killed twice in one night." The Marshal continued.   
Mulder turned to and face him.  
  
"I read your profile Agent." Peers went on. "He's not   
sticking to it very well, is he?" his voice dripped with   
sarcasm.   
  
/Great./ Mulder thought, /this is just what I need right   
now./  
  
"Umm, very inconsiderate." He matched the man's tone.   
  
Peers stepped closer and lowered his voice.   
  
"I appreciate it has been a while since you worked with   
the BSU." He paused and Mulder realised he was holding a   
sheath of documents. "But this." he waved them in Mulder's   
face. "Is bullshit."   
  
A muscle in Mulder's jaw twitched but otherwise his   
expression remained unchanged. Peers stuffed the file into   
the kitchen bin.  
  
"Thanks for the vote of confidence." Mulder replied. He   
continued to keep his eyes fixed on Peers but his mind was   
busy scrolling through a number of images.   
  
/Claire Lewis's coat./  
/Her wallet./  
  
"Sirus is here, I don't care what your report says, my   
evidence is in the morgue."   
  
/A gunshot wound to the back of the head./  
  
"I've reassigned 'your' agents. They're to work here, from   
the local station."   
  
That caught his attention.  
  
"If you and your partner want to chase ghosts and dead men   
through Richmond, fine."   
  
Mulder grimaced, apparently the Marshal was aware of how   
they had spent the afternoon.   
  
"But, don't waste the time of my officers."  
  
"I thought the bureau was working in partnership with the   
US Marshall's service." He didn't bother to keep the   
irritation out of his voice.   
  
"While the fugitive is still at large I am in charge   
here." He pronounced each word slowly. "Don't forget that."  
  
Mulder glared at him but said nothing, the Marshal was   
right, ultimately it was his case.   
  
"You have one more chance. I want a more accurate report   
by 9am tomorrow morning, or I'll be in contact your   
superiors."  
  
/Do that./ Mulder thought. /You'd get on well with   
Skinner./  
  
"I thought it was three stakes before your out." he   
answered.   
  
Peers eyes narrowed.  
  
"Don't push me Agent, don't push me."  
  
The marshal started to walk away. He took two steps before   
stopping and throwing a plastic envelope towards Mulder.   
  
It held a blood stained playing card.  
  
"They found that under her body."  
  
-----------------------------------------------------------  
  
Richmond, 24 November 2034  
---------------------------  
  
The sun had long since set as he made his way back to the   
small Richmond police station. Mulder found his partner in   
the office they had made their own, her head on the desk and   
eyes closed. Quietly he crouched beside her.  
  
"Sleeping on the job, Agent Scully." he whispered in her   
ear.   
  
She jumped knocking a file onto the floor.   
  
"Don't let Federal Marshall Peers find you." He slumped   
into the chair opposite her. "He's not in the best of   
moods."   
  
Recomposing herself she arched an eyebrow.   
  
"He thinks we're wasting our time. He's relocated the ops   
centre to Hopewell and reassigned my agents."   
  
"Can he do that?" she asked incredulous.  
  
"Technically yes, he has the overriding jurisdiction   
here." he paused, noticing the autopsy reports under her   
hand.   
  
"Did you find anything?"   
  
She shook her head. Heeding her partner's doubts she'd been   
thorough but her findings hardly reflected the meticulous   
effort.   
  
"Some pre-mortem bruising, two gunshots to the back. One   
bullet penetrated the left atria then exited the body, the   
other became embedded in her cervical spine. She would have   
bleed to death in minutes. Like before there was a frenzied   
post-mortem attack, mostly concentrated on the back of her   
torso. There was also a significant post-mortem blow to the   
head."   
  
"He crushed her skull." She added quietly. "Oh and the tox   
screen came back on Sarah Jenkins, it was clear."   
  
He nodded and thumbed through his own notes. Scully realised   
he looked tired, the shadows under his eyes had darkened. A   
quick mental calculation told her he hadn't slept for at   
least 36 hours.   
  
"Something's not right."   
  
He leant towards her, catching her gaze.   
  
"Sirus just broke out of prison, he has fifty bucks and   
only the clothes he's wearing. Yet he breaks into two   
women's homes, kills them but doesn't steal a thing, doesn't   
even pause to eat. Claire Lewis had money in her wallet, he   
left it there."  
  
Scully rubbed the bridge of her nose, soothing away a   
tension headache.  
  
"And, shooting them in the back." he continued. "Sirus was   
never ashamed of killing, he wanted to see their face."  
  
"Do you think these are copycat killings?" She asked. He   
shook his head thoughtfully.  
  
"The playing card, that detail was never released to the   
press. Its Sirus." His eyes meet hers. "Or someone with   
intimate access to the original case file." He rubbed his   
hands over his face, he didn't want to think about that   
possibility.   
  
Scully sighed. Stretching she glanced over the room, her   
eyes catching on a pile of photocopied sheets. She handed   
them to Mulder.   
  
"The prison faxed these over about an hour ago, they were   
found in Sirus's cell."   
  
"What are they?" He glanced at the first page a list of   
times and numbers looked back up at him.   
  
"Bus timetables and maps."   
  
The word Hopewell caught his eye. Scully followed his gaze.  
  
"Its not just Hopewell." She continued. "There's similar   
information on a number of other local towns.   
  
"Where did he get them?"   
  
"The warden wasn't sure, but apparently the inmates are   
allowed a certain amount of supervised Internet time, he   
reckons Sirus could have looked these pages up then."   
  
Something sparked across Mulder's features, he looked back   
at his partner.   
  
"If he was checking tourist information he knew he was   
going to get out."   
  
She nodded. Scully had drawn a similar conclusion.   
  
"I re-read the accident reports, there's no indication   
that it was staged, but I guess it could have been missed."   
She pushed the papers towards him. He left them sitting on   
the desk.   
  
"The one-armed man." Mulder muttered.  
  
"Krycek." He added, loathed to say the name aloud.  
  
"We don't know that for certain" She reminded him gently.   
His look told her that he held no such uncertainty.  
  
Scully took a deep breath. No matter how many times she put   
the facts together and took them apart again she still found   
herself reaching the same name. Even considering speeding   
sedans and men with prosthetic limbs everything pointed to   
Sirus. Despite her partners obvious misgivings she was   
inclined to believe the Marshal's team were looking in the   
right place. She sighed, she would add two and two together   
and get four, Mulder could do the same and get triangular.   
Doing what she always did when he refused to take the simple   
explanation, she fell back on logic;  
  
"Okay, maybe we're looking at this the wrong way. What   
about the victims, anything to connect them?"   
  
Mulder lips twitched at the tone of her voice. He heard, I-  
don't-agree-with-you-but-I'll-humour-you, as clearly as if   
she had said it aloud.   
  
"They lived about 4 miles apart, which in the sprawling   
metropolis of Hopewell is about as far as you can get. They   
had no mutual acquaintances. Claire Lewis worked part-time   
in a grocers store, she lived with her husband. He was out   
of town when it happened, found the body when he came back."   
  
She flipped through the case file on Sarah Jenkins.  
  
"Forensics found nothing." she stated her eyes skimming   
the report.   
  
"I doubt they tried particularly hard." He mumbled. She   
was inclined to agree, theoretically the identity of the   
killer was already known.   
  
Mulder flicked through the files he had brought in with him.   
A flash of red and white caught Scully's eyes.  
  
"Mulder?"   
  
She leaned over and took the folder. A familiar strip looked   
back up at her. She glanced back at her partner.   
  
"You said it yourself, this isn't our case."  
  
"I know." He had the grace to look sheepish. "I haven't   
filled out the 301, I doubt Skinner would approve it   
anyway." Mulder shrugged. "I just started making some notes,   
that's all."  
  
Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. Intuition and experience   
told her never to believe Mulder when he waved a candy-  
striped folder and innocently pronounced, 'that's all'.   
  
"Look, I know there are some things that don't add up   
here." She spoke slowly as if adding measure to her words   
could go some way to making him listen.   
  
"But there is still an overwhelming amount of evidence   
that points to Sirus. This isn't an X-file, don't rule out   
the obvious because your looking too hard for the   
unexplained."   
  
He smiled, he'd heard this speech before.   
  
"Think horses not zebra's" he muttered.   
  
"Something like that." She meet his eyes and handed him   
back the folder, willing to drop the matter for now.   
  
"What do want to do next?" She asked  
  
His eyes flicked to the police breaking and entry reports.   
They were now stacked two piles high."  
  
"You should get some rest." he said softly.   
  
She pushed the phone in his direction.  
  
"Chicken chow mein, beef in oyster sauce and egg fried rice."   
  
-----------------------------------------------------------  
  
Richmond 25 November 0034  
---------------------------  
  
Scully threw the last police report on the top of a   
precariously balanced stack. It wobbled but remained   
standing. She sighed and began to search a foil container   
for the last traces of cold chow mein.   
  
Three of the reports had fitted what Mulder regarded as the   
correct criteria. Three, out of over eighty. She recalled   
his words;  
  
/He won't have taken anything of real value. Its unlikely   
he would have trashed the place, or in fact caused any mess   
at all. I'd look for the theft of particular items, clothes,   
cash, food./  
  
She'd followed his directions closely but it seemed the   
majority of burglars stole laptops, videos, TV's and could   
thus be ruled out of their search.  
  
Mulder watched his partner scoop the remains of Chinese out   
of the container.   
  
"Still Hungry?" he raised an eyebrow.   
  
Scully looked up in amusement.  
  
/Is that what I look like when I do that?/ she wondered.   
  
"I didn't eat much earlier, two autopsies in one day don't   
do much for your appetite."   
  
He pushed the half empty box of fried rice in her direction   
then slumped back in his chair.   
  
"Find anything." she asked between mouthfuls. He shook his   
head.   
  
"I want to talk to the officers who filed these reports."   
he motioned to the three they had kept aside. "But I guess   
that will have to wait to morning." She glanced at the clock   
and nodded in agreement.   
  
"Its Friday night, what are we doing here?" She mumbled as   
she stretched, stiff from sitting for so long.   
  
"Scully, this is what we do every Friday night." He   
replied quietly. "And its Saturday morning, anyway."   
  
"Besides." He continued, the soft lilt of amusement   
evident in his voice. "What else would you be doing?"   
  
"I have a life." she answered defensively, then added   
quieter. "I had a life."   
  
Mulder rubbed his eyes.  
  
"Dating's overrated." He pushed the desk light so it   
pointed towards the floor. The room fell into shadow.   
  
"It is?" she replied a mixture of interest and amusement   
in her tone.   
  
"Yeah, awkward silences, ridiculously expensive wine,   
difficult questions about your career choices, impossible   
questions about your video collection..."   
  
Scully had long ago learnt that she would compare any man   
she dated to Mulder. She couldn't help herself. Before she   
realised what she was doing she was sitting across the table   
thinking that the guy's eyes were the wrong shade of green   
or that when he whispered his voice was too high-pitched.   
Angrily she'd banish the thoughts from her mind but always   
as the evening progressed they'd creep back in. Often so   
much so that when they stood to leave and her date placed   
his hand on the middle of her back she had to bite her lip   
to keep from telling him that his fingers were in the wrong   
place.   
  
She looked at her partner and couldn't help but wonder if he   
did the same thing. But then she remembered the women in his   
life, tall, curvaceous and mostly brunette.   
  
"Well, maybe the last two just apply to me."   
  
She smiled then surprised herself by answering honestly.  
  
"Maybe the only the last one, it can be hard to explain to   
a guy that you've spent your day in the morgue."   
  
Abruptly her mind conjured an image of a tattoo pallor and a   
dark bar. Ed was the last man she'd been on a date with,   
she'd not told him what she did.  
  
"Try telling someone you've been chasing aliens. I've seen   
the effect it has on you, and you know me." He answered   
softy noticing the shadow that had passed over her eyes.   
  
/Which wound did I prod then./   
  
Mulder pulled his chair closer to hers but stopped within   
inches of touching her.  
  
"Try telling someone you've been chasing aliens. I've seen   
the effect it has on you and you know me."   
  
"I've never called you crazy." she said quietly, her eyes   
meeting his. The intensity in his gaze was startling, nearly   
overwhelmed she stole his defence mechanisms and fell back   
on humour.  
  
"Paranoid, arrogant, overbearing, irresponsible,   
insensitive..."  
  
"Enough." he grinned, but his mind still painted a picture   
of her in a posh restaurant, drinking fine wine. Some Friday   
nights made him wonder if that was where she would rather   
be.   
  
"Do you ever wish you could have done things differently?"  
  
Scully reached out and curled her fingers around his. This   
question she was familiar with.  
  
"Some things" she answered honestly. "But having spent   
more of my free time socialising isn't particularly high on   
the list."  
  
He squeezed her hand gently, holding her gaze. Even sitting   
he still found himself looking down at her. He realised he   
could feel her pulse fluttering against fingers.   
  
/What's my next line./ he wondered. /Where do we go from   
here./ She was looking back at him, her eyes asking the same   
question.  
  
"Are you always this philosophical at one in the morning."   
It was Scully who broke the silence.   
  
He couldn't recall the number of conversations they had had   
at one in the morning, but he realised she was offering him   
the way out.   
  
He took it.  
  
"Only when I've not slept for nearly three days."  
  
Something bleeped. It took Scully a minute to work out it   
was her laptop.   
  
"The batteries are running down." she murmured, taking her   
hand from his and pulling the computer in front of her.   
  
Mulder's memory supplied him with an image, he saw Claire   
Lewis's study and realised for the first time that there had   
been stacks of computer magazines lining the shelves.   
  
"Is that connected to the Internet?"  
  
"Yes, it can be." Scully answered, trying not to notice   
the abrupt change in conversation. She rose and fiddled with   
the wires, plugging in the power supply and the modem cable.   
The machine made a familiar whistling noise.   
  
Breathing deeply she returned to her partners side. He   
reached across and typed 'Claire Lewis Hopewell' into the   
search engine. She looked at him in surprise.   
  
The search engine returned a number of options, the first   
reading freelance web design'. He followed the link.   
  
"I thought you said she worked in a grocers." She   
questioned.   
  
"She did, but there were a number of computer magazines   
and manuals in her home, it just occurred to me that maybe   
she had her own site." He looked back at the screen, it   
confirmed his suspicion.  
  
"Apparently green-grocery wasn't part of her long term   
plans."  
  
Scully skim read the text. The words curriculum vitae caught   
her attention.   
  
"Mulder." She pointed at the screen and he followed her   
direction.   
  
After high school Claire Lewis had taken a number of   
computer courses. She'd worked in a string of menial   
positions before getting her first jobs as an IT support   
technician.. at Cipher Pharmaceuticals.   
  
"June 1991 to September 1993." Scully read aloud. "When   
did Sarah Jenkins work there?"  
  
Mulder flicked through his notes.   
  
"She started in, December 1991."   
  
"So they could have known each other." He nodded. "What do   
we know about Cipher Pharmaceuticals?" She questioned.   
  
"Aside from the fact that they are a major employer in   
South West Virginia, not a lot."  
  
He taped the keys again, this time looking for information   
on the pharmaceutical company. A few seconds later they were   
staring at a paragraphs of text.   
  
"Mostly they developed antivirals." Scully summarised for   
her partner. She had noticed his eyes flicking back and   
forth between the medical terminology. "But they also had a   
major interest in autoimmune disease."  
  
"Where the body creates antibodies against itself, right."   
She nodded, continuing to read the screen.   
  
Mulder pulled out his cellphone and began dialling.   
  
From the corner of her eye she noticed his fingers move over   
the keypad and realised she could still feel the heat of his   
hands over hers, her skin tingled where he touched her.   
  
"I need you to look up some information for me." He said   
by way of a greeting. She assumed he was talking to a lone   
gun man.   
  
"Cipher pharmaceuticals. Virginia."  
  
Giving up the pretence of reading she turned and watched his   
eyes, following the flecks of gold that danced in the   
otherwise hazel orbs.   
  
"Thanks." He hung up and turned back to face her, abruptly   
she realised she was staring.   
  
"Its late." he said. "We should get going."   
  
----------------------------------------------------------- 


End file.
